They Meet Again
by Gunnery Sergeant
Summary: Set between seasons 5 and 6. When Gibbs is sent to investigate the murder of a Navy Captain's wife, his path crosses again with a certain Mossad Officer's. Previously unknown truths will be revealed and their lives will change forever.
1. Chapter 1

**THEY MEET AGAIN**

**By Gunnery Sergeant**

_A/N: Nature Heaven's Island doesn't exist, it__'s just my invention. _

**Prologue**

The first corpse was discovered two days before the Independence Celebration.

As the roads of Heavenly Shores City were cleaned and decorated in preparation for the annual parade, a woman with a slashed throat was found lying in a pool of coagulated blood in one of the many alleys near the harbour.

Nobody cared much about her murder.

She was a whore and the local cops quickly declared she had been killed by one of her clients, perhaps by someone who hadn't wanted to pay her, or by someone she had refused to service.

Whatever the reason, the good, dignified local authorities didn't consider it necessary to investigate further, some of them even believing the woman had somehow deserved her brutal death.

And nobody, with the exception of a young policeman, noticed a thick lock of the woman's hair was missing.

It had been unevenly cut, as if it had been done in a hurry, but the cop didn't give it more than a passing thought, nor did he wonder if it was somehow connected with the homicide.

The second corpse was discovered on July 3rd.

It was another prostitute, and she had been killed in the same way as the first one, with a deep cut to her throat. Again, a thick lock of her hair had been hastily cut- but this time the detail was noticed by the ME, who listened with a certain interest when a young policeman informed him about having seen the same thing on the first corpse.

Thus, this second murder raised a bit more attention in the local authorities. The first corpse was dug up and a more extensive autopsy was conducted, but it shed no light on the killer's identity or purpose.

Some investigations were done among the prostitutes that worked in the harbour area, but gave no results, and the whores were simply advised to be more careful when they come in contact with men.

The third murder happened twelve days later and this time the victim wasn't a prostitute, but a private nurse, a respectable wife and mother of three children.

She had been killed as she was returning home early in the evening, after having spent the whole afternoon at a patient's house. The _modus operandi _was the same of the previous times: a slashed throat and a missing lock of hair.

The victim's husband, Miles Andrews, was a retired US Navy captain. He remonstrated with the police chief and the major and, dragging in front of them his three teary-eyed children, he shouted he wanted to know who had killed his wife. The man claimed to have influent relatives in Washington, and the major promised to do all he could to discover the culprit, if only to avoid a diplomatic incident with the USA.

Investigations were made and the path of the victim's last trip reconstructed, but none of the persons who had seen Sarah Andrews walk toward her home had witnessed anything strange. No one had noticed if she had been pursued or followed, and no suspicious individuals had been seen lingering in the area.

The whole matter remained enveloped in a cloud of mystery and, as the local press began to sniff around in search of a good story they could sell internationally, the fear for the _Hair Collector_ spread among the populace, as women started to avoid being outside as darkness fell.

And then, in late July, the killer hit for the fourth time. But that evening his plans were thwarted, and the intended victim was able to survive the attack…

**I**

Darkness had already fallen on Heavenly Shores City– Nature's Heaven Island's Capitol—when Mossad Officer Ziva David left the communication centre to return to her rented cottage.

Nature's Heaven was a medium sized island in the Atlantic Ocean, an independent country that had chosen to stick to a very naturalistic way of life.

There were no cars on the island, just carts, wagons pulled by horses or bicycles. With the exception of fridges, there were no electrical household appliances allowed on Nature's Heaven Island. No TVs, no washing machines, no dishwashers. Phones and computers were allowed only in the communication centre located in the district where the government buildings, airport, hospital and all the banks were concentrated.

The island was inhabited mostly by people who had chosen to live at strict contact with nature and visited each year by tourists that wanted to forget their frantic life-styles for a couple of weeks.

On paper, it looked like it was the last place where one would think to find a terrorist cell. However its nearness to the USA and the somehow lax security measures adopted by the ever welcoming local government made it a good place to lay low for a while before moving on to more strategic locations.

Ziva had been sent to Nature's Heaven Island by her father, because Mossad had received intel about a wanted Hamas terrorist that was supposedly hiding there. Her job had been to locate the man, keep him under surveillance and then ask for the help of other Israeli officers stationed in Mexico to abduct and take him out of the country without fuss.

Ziva had been on the island for the past week, but so far she hadn't found the terrorist. She had just located the abandoned house where he had been living and her recent trip to the communication centre – she had had to leave her sat phone there with the phones of all the other people entering the island -- had been to inform her father of this disappointing development.

Eli David had given her orders to stay there ten days more to see if the terrorist would come back. After that Ziva could return home, to Israel.

Ziva should have felt happy for this news; she hated feeling useless and wasting her time—but she was not. Because in her heart, Tel Aviv had stopped being home. Home now was Washington DC. The place where she had lived for the past three years; where she had learned to be much more than an assassin; where she had made new, wonderful, real friends and where she had lost her heart to the most unlikely man.

Ziva David had always been a practical woman. Her childhood dreams of love and Prince Charming had been shattered when her sister Tali had been killed in a terrorist attack.

She had hardened her heart to become the Mossad officer her country needed her to be. She had put aside her wishes and desires to do her duty—until the day she had met him.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

Former US Marine, NCIS special agent and the man her brother Ari had had a strange obsession for.

As Ari's control officer, Ziva had prepared for him a dossier about Gibbs and the other members of his team and, while Mossad Officer David had been impressed by the man's curriculum, the woman Ziva hadn't felt anything special. Yes, Gibbs was a handsome man, but she had met many a handsome man in her life, what difference would it make meeting one more?

As it turned out, all the difference in the world.

She had met Gibbs and everything had changed.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs was much more than a handsome face and an athletic body. He was charismatic, intelligent, competent, fearless, loyal, ready to do what was right, no matter the price he would have to pay. He was everything Ziva had always sought in a working – or personal – partner. He was also a good man, andshe had never regretted taking Ari's life to save Gibbs'.

In the past three years, she had worked hard to keep her love for Gibbs under control and not betray her true feelings to him.

While she had known there was a special bond between them, she had also known he probably thought of it as a mentor/pupil bond. He had taught her. He had protected her. He had cared for her too, as his return from Mexico to help her had proved—but then, he had cared for all the members of his team and Ziva had had no illusions Gibbs might feel something different, something more for her.

But all this rationalizing hadn't prevented her from falling deeper in love with the older man with each day she passed working at his side and when, two months before, Director Vance had brusquely terminated her liaison position with NCIS, her heart had broken.

They had barely had the time for a brief embrace and a murmured "Take care of yourself" before she had been escorted out of the NCIS building and to the Israeli Embassy. The following morning, she was already on a plane directed to Tel Aviv and the father she had wanted to get away from. He was the reason why she had asked to be assigned as liaison officer.

However, as much as Eli David could be ruthless when he wanted, he could also be a considerate parent. He had noticed his daughter's low spirits and correctly guessed she had left someone important behind. Only he had thought that someone was Tony, not Gibbs.

Ziva smiled as she kept on walking along the torch-lit streets of Heavenly Shores City. She was proud of how she had managed to fool her father and the people he had sent to control her during her first year in America by making them believe she was in love with Tony. Then she sobered. Her flirting with Tony and her friendship with poor Lieutenant Sanders had been all diversions to prevent Gibbs from discovering her real feelings, but now she wondered what could have happened if she had been crazy enough or bold enough or careless enough to let her boss know where her feelings lay.

Would he have sent her back to Israel? Would he have transferred her to another team? Would he have shouted at her? Or would he have been understanding with her and turned her down with kindness? And, oh God, what if he had told her he felt the same?

Beautiful, tantalizing, impossible thought, but one she occasionally liked to indulge when she was in bed alone…

Ziva was brusquely snapped out from her reverie when two strong arms surrounded her from behind.

In the brief instant that it took her to react, she saw a blade reflect the flames of a nearby torch and she understood who was attacking her.

She was aware of the mysterious assassin that was killing women in town. She knew the local authorities had alerted women not to go out alone at night, but Ziva had thought – wrongly and arrogantly, given her current predicament – that no one would be able to catch her unaware.

She reached out with one hand and blocked the blade trying to slash her throat, while she slammed her other elbow in the attacker's stomach. His grip on her loosened, but he didn't set her free.

She locked her ankle with his, twisted it and managed to make him lose his balance. They both landed hard on the paved road and the attacker rolled atop of her as Ziva doubled her efforts to shake him off and grab the knife she carried at her belt.

Then, suddenly, she heard a noise. Someone was walking toward them.

"Help!" Ziva screamed as loud as she could. "Somebody help me!"

The sound of approaching footfalls changed from leisured walking to urgent running.

"Freeze!" a voice shouted from the half darkness surrounding them, and for a moment Ziva thought it sounded a lot like Gibbs'. "I'm armed!"

Her assailant gave a frustrated growl. The blade flashed as he cut a lock of her hair and then, as fast as lighting, he jumped away from her, and quickly disappeared into a nearby alley.

Ziva sat up and waited for her breath to calm down as her saviour's footfalls came closer…

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	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for the reviews! I've been pleasantly surprised by the great response to this story. As I said, reviews make me happy, make me wish to update more, and they are also a great "tonic" for my muse...so please keep them coming! :)**

**-----**

Leroy Jethro Gibbs had felt restless inside his hotel room. The lack of TV and radio hadn't bothered him in the least, but he had missed working on his boat. He had missed his basement and the memories connected with it. He had missed his bourbon.

He had missed…so much more.

Thus he had grabbed his jacket and gone out for a walk, hoping it would relax him enough to get a good night of sleep.

As he walked along the almost deserted streets of Heavenly Shores, Gibbs thought of the events of the previous 16 hours.

He had been sent to Nature's Heaven Island with just a two-hour notice to investigate the murder of a former Navy captain's wife. The widower's brother was a close friend of the SecNav, who had all but ordered Vance to send someone to check what the local police was doing to find the killer.

Vance had bowed, of course, and said to the SecNav he would send his best investigative team. In reality, he had sent only Gibbs.

The new NCIS Director thought there wasn't much to investigate – the reports from Nature's Heaven Island police said the poor woman had been the victim of a serial killer – and Vance believed it wasn't NCIS's job to catch him.

Gibbs had been sent to the island only to silence the SecNav and his friend, something that, any other time, would have totally pissed him off—but not this time.

This time he had been relieved, even happy, to be sent away from DC to do a job even a probie could do. Happy to be sent away from the office and a team he couldn't call his.

He was aware he was considered the best agent in the agency and he knew he was damn good at his job, but as the military man he still was, he also knew a commanding officer was as good as his men made him look. That was why he never showed up to receive the medals awarded to him, because he knew those medals weren't only his—they belonged to his team too, and he was upset not to see his colleagues' merits being recognized along with his own.

And now that he no longer had his team-- the one he had created to suit him and his methods, and could trust with his life-- Gibbs felt like a shadow of the agent he could be. He spent too much time teaching, correcting, checking, controlling, barking orders to Lee, Langer and Keating to be the agent he used to be and wanted to be again. The agent he needed to be again.

Atop of that, he had to deal with Abby who, one day in, one day off, kept asking him what he was doing to bring Tony, Ziva and Tim back. Gibbs loved Abby dearly, but sometimes he needed a break even from her well-intended words.

Didn't she know he had been wracking his brain trying to find a way to bring Ziva, DiNozzo and McGee back? Didn't she know he spent hours every day trying to understand why Vance had disbanded the most effective team NCIS had? Had only Tony and Ziva been sent away, Gibbs could have believed it was a punishment for their failure to protect Jenny – although it wasn't their fault since they had been ordered to stay away – but if it were so, why had McGee been punished too? Gibbs had even thought Vance was punishing him or trying to bring him more under his control. There was no doubt that without a loyal team having his six and trusting him with no questions asked, he no longer had the freedom of action he had in the past.

However, the loss of his team, as hard as it was to cope with, wasn't the only thing burdening him.

It was another loss that kept him awake at night, that had made him smash more than one empty bourbon bottle against the pillars in his basement, that had made him look at Shannon, Kelly and Jenny's pictures and murmur, "No, please, not another one…"

Leroy Jethro Gibbs had never been an overtly open man. He had closed up after his mother's death, and it had worsened after he had lost his family. However, even if he found it difficult to talk and reveal his feelings to others, he was usually able to admit them to himself—even if most of the time he ended up not acting upon them and suffocating them.

This hadn't been the case with his love for Ziva David.

He hadn't acted on it not because of rule number twelve or because he hadn't been willing to risk his heart again, but simply because he hadn't realized he loved the Israeli woman until the moment she had been taken away from him.

Until the moment he had seen her brown eyes fill with tears when she had spotted the two men Mossad had sent to escort her away. What had they feared? That Ziva would decide to kill or harm Vance? She might have had the desire to do it, but she was too smart to do something like that…so out in the open.

The moment Gibbs had seen his brave, little assassin's eyes look at him full of despair, he had felt like someone had kicked him in the stomach. He had felt like that many years before, when he had seen Shannon and Kelly's tears as the truck he was on pulled away from their home taking him to Iraq and war—and it was then, in that precise moment, he had realized he loved Ziva David.

Not as a colleague; not as a pupil and certainly not as a surrogate daughter. He loved her as the woman he wanted to spend his life with. The woman Gibbs didn't want to lose and yet risked not seeing again…

_No! That won't happen!_ he thought, kicking a stone on the street and making it land several feet ahead.

He would find a way to bring her back to DC—and him. And once it was done, he would play all his cards, forget or abolish rule number twelve, tell Ziva he loved her and hope she would want a cranky, stubborn, taciturn, middle-aged, slightly-worn Marine with a bad knee in her life.

Yes, he had been hurt many a time in the past, but this time he felt it could be different. So very different.

Ex-wives number one and two had been subconscious attempts to recapture what he had had with Shannon—but deep inside he had known they weren't the real deal, and this was why he had never opened enough to tell them about the family he had lost.

It could have been different with Jenny. She hadn't been a replacement and he had planned to confide his past to her, to thank her for finally healing his heart—but she had left him to pursue a career she believed she couldn't have if she tied herself to him.

Stephanie had been his way to replace Jenny, and she was the only ex-wife he regretted hurting.

Rule number twelve had been created just after the "Shepard's Fiasco", as he had referred to it for a while, but now his gut told him that things could be different with Ziva.

She wasn't as career-driven as Jenny had been. She would never like to deal with politicians and ass-kiss her way up in the ranks. She was more like him, she wanted to be in the field and do the best job she could.

True, it was possible she might not reciprocate his feelings, but something he had seen in her gaze just before she left, a pained look of longing directed at him, told him he would be a fool if he didn't take his chances—and Gibbs was many things, but certainly not a fool.

"Help me!" A sudden cry broke the stillness of the moonless night and interrupted his musings. "Somebody help me!"

Without even thinking, Gibbs grabbed his gun and ran in the direction the cry had come from.

He saw something move in the darkness, two people were struggling on the paved road, each of them trying to overwhelm the other.

"Freeze!" he shouted as he came closer, "I'm armed!" He hoped to scare the assailant, because it was too dark and they were moving too much to allow him to take aim.

One of the figures reacted to his threat and stood up, quickly disappearing into one of the alleys that opened on the sides of the street.

Gibbs thought briefly of following him, but then decided it was better to see if the victim was all right. So he put away the gun and covered the final distance that separated him from the still supine figure.

"Are you all right?" he asked, hoping that whoever they were, were fine, because he had no idea of how he could ask for medical help without a phone.

The victim of the attack sat up and he realized it was a woman, with long, probably dark hair, covering her face.

Gibbs stopped a few steps behind her and asked again, more gently, "Are you all right?"

He watched, almost fascinated, as she pushed her hair back, away from her face, curious to see the woman that had been so reckless to be alone in the darkness with a probable serial killer on the loose.

His fascination transformed to shock when the woman turned her head up and to the right to face him and he saw it was Ziva.


	3. Chapter 3

**-----**

Ziva almost couldn't believe her eyes when she saw who her saviour was.

Gibbs!

There, kneeling slowly by her side, a stunned look on his face. The real, breathing man and not just a figment of her imagination.

There was a moment of shocked silence, then:

"Ziva!"

"Gibbs!"

They spoke at the same time, fell silent, then tried again.

"What are you doing here?"

"Are you all right?"

They shared a half-exasperated look and, before they again spoke in unison, Ziva said, "You first."

"Are you OK?" Gibbs asked, leaning close and staring searchingly into her eyes in the dim light cast from the nearby torch.

His well-remembered scent – a mixture of sawdust, coffee, gun powder and musk – reached her nose, and she closed her eyes briefly, basking in the warmth and comfort of the memories it stirred.

"I am fine," she finally answered, opening her eyes. "I am just angry for letting myself be surprised as I was."

Gibbs nodded, and she was grateful he didn't press to know _why_ she had been so distracted not to hear her attacker come close until it was too late.

"What are you doing here?" she repeated her question.

"Vance sent me here to investigate the murder of a former Navy officer's wife."

"The third victim of the 'Hair Collector'?"

"You know about him?"

"It is impossible not to. The local press is having a ball with it. I guess this is not a place where a journalist has much to do."

"Ya think?" Gibbs replied, half-sarcastic, half-amused.

"When did you arrive?" Ziva asked.

"Three hours ago. I registered in the hotel, had dinner, then got bored."

"You miss your boat, yes?" she smiled, remembering the few times he had been at his place after work and watched him work on the wooden hull in his basement.

"Yeah. So, I decided to take a walk." Gibbs stared at her, his eyes penetrating, and reached out with a hand, touching her hair. "It was a close call, Ziva," he commented, his tone low and deadly serious. "It was him, the Hair Collector. What would have happened had I not arrived when I did?" he went on, the pain in his voice unmistakeable.

"But you arrived," she stressed. "Let's not think of what did not happen, only of what happened." She took one of his hands between hers and squeezed. It was a very personal gesture, and her heart jumped when Gibbs reacted to it with one of his rare full smiles.

"Where is your place?" he asked after a few moments. "I'll walk you there"

The spell was broken and she reluctantly let go of his hand. "I live three blocks down the street," she answered.

Gibbs stood up, grimacing at the loud crack produced by his knee as he straightened and offered his hand to help Ziva up. She took it, not because she was in need of help, but because she couldn't pass up the opportunity to touch him again.

She realized she had been wrong the moment she put her weight on her right ankle and a blaze of fiery pain coursed along her leg. She needed Gibbs' help and would have stumbled if he hadn't been quick enough to steady her.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, his blue eyes scanning her face intently.

"My ankle…I think I might have sprained it when I used it to take that man down."

Gibbs moved at her side and put his arm around her waist, supporting her.

"Lead the way," he ordered as they started walking toward her cottage.

**-----**

They walked in silence, and Gibbs was grateful for it, for it gave him the time to think. He needed time to regain his focus and calm his boiling emotions.

At the moment he felt overwhelmed by both the happiness of seeing Ziva again and the sheer terror that assaulted him as he wondered what could have happened if he had been only a few minutes later.

He knew it had no sense to think of what hadn't happened, but after losing his family and Jenny, after seeing their blood splattered in the car or in the abandoned diner, it was easier said than done.

What would have happened if he had arrived at the location of the assault and found Ziva's corpse lying in a pool of blood?

Gibbs shivered and decided that she was right. It was useless to torture himself like that. So he concentrated on how it felt to have her again so near, now what he was aware of his feelings.

It was both heaven and hell combined. The sensation of her body leaning against him, her arm around his back, their hips touching with each step they took, her delicate perfume…it was heaven because it was everything he had longed for; it was hell because he wasn't sure he would ever be able to tell Ziva how he felt.

Gibbs had no idea of what she was doing on the island. As far as he knew she could be leaving the next day, and he wasn't certain he could bear to bare his heart to her only to see her leave within a few hours. He didn't like to feel so insecure, but he thought he deserved some allowances after everything he had passed in his life.

"Here we are," Ziva interrupted his musing as they approached a small stone cottage. "This is where I'm staying."

Gibbs helped her climb the two steps leading to the entry and watched as she took out the key, opened the door and switched on the lights—strangely enough, electricity was allowed inside the private houses but not to light the streets. He found it idiotic, because he was pretty sure Ziva wouldn't have been surprised if the streets had been decently lit.

He helped the young woman to sit on a chair in the kitchen. "Do you have any bandages?" he asked.

"Yes, there is a new roll in the bathroom, inside the cabinet over the sink."

Gibbs located the bathroom, found the bandage and returned into the kitchen. He pulled a chair in front of Ziva's and commanded, "Raise you leg; I'll take care of it."

Ziva put her foot on his thighs and he proceeded to take her boot and sock off and to roll her trousers' leg up. He then examined her, rolling the foot in both directions and feeling for heat. Satisfied the ankle wasn't broken but just sprained as Ziva had surmised, he started bandaging it, taking care not to make the wrapping too tight.

"So, what is a Mossad officer doing in this charming place?" Gibbs asked as he worked.

Ziva sighed, but there was no hesitation in her answer. "One of our contacts reported a terrorist on our wanted list was hiding here."

"He is?"

"He was. I found his place and I have kept it under surveillance, but it looks like he fled for good. I have got orders to stay here ten days more in case he might return, but I think it is just my father's way of giving me a vacation."

Gibbs nodded as he completed the bandage. His fingers were twitching with the desire to brush against the smooth skin of Ziva's calf but he controlled himself. He had ten days in front of him, ten days to decide if he wished to take the step his heart wanted him to take.

"Do you need one?" he asked, as he lowered her leg.

"What?"

"A vacation," he clarified.

"Yes. No. Yes," Ziva shook her head, frustrated. Then she stared straight at him. "Look, I am not physically tired. It is just…I miss you. I miss all of you. You, Abby, Tim, Ducky, even Tony. I miss my life in Washington. The life of an investigator, not of a spy and assassin."

The haunted look in her eyes made his breath catch in his throat.

"I'm trying, Ziva," Gibbs said softly. "I'm doing all I can to bring you and Tony back, but it's not easy, and it won't be until I know exactly why Vance sent you away."

She nodded and smiled briefly. "I know you are trying, Gibbs, and I know you will keep on trying. You're too stubborn and too loyal to stop trying."

"It did it once…" he grimaced, thinking about his temporary retirement two years before.

"That does not count," Ziva brushed his lingering guilt off with a graceful gesture of her hand. "You were not yourself when you made that decision-- and if you want to hear the truth, I knew, just as Jenny did, that you would return. It was just a matter of time. You were not ready to retire for good—heck, you will never be ready to retire for good."

Gibbs grunted, unsure if he should be pleased or not that she seemed to have him all figured out.

There was a moment of silence, then he broke it by saying, "So, since you have nothing to do, would you like to-"

"- join you in your investigation?" Ziva completed the line. "Yes! Of course I would like it. Among the other things, I have an unfinished business with the 'Hair Collector'." She raised her hand to touch her unevenly cut lock of hair as her eyes flashed deadly.

Gibbs nodded, "Good." He looked at his watch; it was almost midnight, time for him to return to the hotel.

"I must go," he said, standing up. "I have an appointment with the police chief tomorrow morning at 09.30. I'll come to fetch you at 08.30."

Ziva smiled brightly and nodded. "I'll be ready, Gibbs."

**-----**

Later that night, alone in their beds, one in a hotel, the other in a rented cottage, Leroy Jethro Gibbs and Ziva David slept better than they had in months.

In truth, it had taken them some time to fall asleep; the excitement of their meeting and the joy of been together again took a long time to die down.

They both took the time to relive the night's events and what their encounter meant for them.

In the end, before finally falling asleep, both Ziva and Gibbs came to the same resolution.

Life was too short to be wasted on fear and hesitation. They had to grab whatever happiness they could when they could and not wait for a 'right moment' that might never come.

So they both decided it was time to tell the other what they felt, with no more hesitation, no more fear of rejection, but with hope that everything would be all right.

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Reviews, please? As you know, they make me wish to update faster!


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks to JoolsdS, dolphinsiren77 and horseninja for the reviews. All the other reviews had been replied privately.

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**II**

The following morning, precisely at 08.30, the door bell rang, making Ziva smile. Gibbs was right on time, as usual.

She opened the door and saw him standing on the steps with two cups of coffee. He silently handed one to her, tilting his head in greeting.

"Thank you," she took the offered cup and sipped her coffee. "Uhm, this is good, the best I had since leaving America. Where did you buy it?"

Gibbs' eyes twinkled and a smug expression appeared on his face as he sipped his coffee.

Her own eyes widened in realization. "You brought your special brand of coffee grind all the way from DC!"

"Yep…it takes less room than my boat," he said, clearly pleased with himself.

Ziva shook her head with fondness and sipped more of the hot coffee, taking the chance to study him in the morning light. He looked great, with the sunlight making his silver hair and blue eyes shine. He wore a grey jacket with matching trousers, a light blue polo shirt, and had a backpack slung over one shoulder.

"Let's go," he said after they finished their coffee and threw the empty cups in a nearby trash bin.

Ziva nodded and stepped to his side, carrying her own backpack.

"How is your ankle doing?" Gibbs asked as they walked along the street, which was full of people coming and going on bicycles.

"Much better, thank you."

Silence fell over them for the rest of the trip, but it was a comfortable one. Ziva thought this ability to be silent or not talk if it wasn't necessary, was a thing she and Gibbs had in common.

He, of course, being a trained sniper knew the importance of silence to strengthen one's inner focus, but she suspected he might have always been the silent type—just like her.

However, there were people that talked all the time because silence made them uneasy or insecure—or just because they knew their incessant rambling drove the others nuts. Ziva smiled as an image of Tony flashed into her mind and she wondered how he was coping on the ship he had been sent to. Had he found someone else to annoy with his endless movie references, his account of his amorous conquests and insatiable curiosity for the details of other people's private lives? Not that one could have much of a private life on board of a 5000 crewmen ship, she thought sadly. Poor Tony! His assignment as agent afloat had to be really hard for him.

Once they reached the Police HQ, Gibbs flashed his ID and his badge.

"I've an appointment with Chief Johnson," he said to the receptionist.

"Yes, sir. I'll take you to him now. Please follow me," the woman replied.

She led them to a small conference room furnished with just a table, a few chairs and a dashboard in the corner. There was no trace of monitors, computers or any other technical appliance. Gibbs wondered if it was just that room, or if the local police investigated crimes with the same techniques used in the 19th century. He hoped, for the sake of the women living on the island, it wasn't so.

"Please, make yourself comfortable," the receptionist said, "Chief Johnson will be here soon."

Gibbs sat at the head of the table, in a position that allowed him to keep an eye on both the door and the window. Ziva couldn't help but smile. Always the tactician. Her smile got bigger at the realization she would have chosen the same place if he hadn't been quicker than her. As it was, she sat at his right side and took her notepad and pen out of her backpack, just as he bent down to do the same.

The door opened and a man that seemed popped out from a movie about British Colonialists appeared. He had short, spiky iron-grey hair and moustache, and a military stance. He was wearing glasses, a short-sleeved light brown uniform and his shorts showed a pair of bony legs. All in all, he looked a bit ridiculous for a police chief, and Ziva had to bite her tongue not to smile.

"Chief Johnson?" Gibbs said, rising to his feet and offering his hand. "I'm Agent Gibbs, and this is Ziva David, my aide in this case—and a witness too."

"A witness?" Johnson asked, as he shook their hands.

"Yes, I was assaulted yesterday evening."

"By the Hair Collector?" The officer sounded sceptic as he took a seat and placed a folder on the table top.

"Yes. I was attacked around 22.45, on Seaway Street."

"How can you be sure it was him?"

"Because he did this…" Ziva raised the lock of hair that had been cut. "He cut it with a knife before he fled."

"Fled?"

"Agent Gibbs arrived to my rescue and caused him to flee."

"I see," the chief took off his glasses and cleaned them with his handkerchief. "Well, Miss David," he said when he was done. "You're lucky to still be alive. I'm happy you suffered no harm, but you shouldn't have been out, alone, so late in the evening. We've alerted women not to do that."

Ziva kept silent. What could she say? That she believed she would be safe? That she was a Mossad officer and nobody could surprise her? She had been proven wrong and she didn't need to have her own arrogance thrown back in her face. She had learned her lesson.

"So," Johnson said after the silence stretched for a full minute. "Can you tell us something about your assailant?"

"He was tall and robust, but not too bulky. His face was covered by a mask, so I could not see it, and he wore gloves."

"Did he talk to you?"

"No, he did not."

"And the knife? Did you see it?"

"Quite well. The blade was about two inches wide and had a serrated edge."

"A hunting knife?"

"Yes."

Johnson and Gibbs wrote something on their notepads, then the chief asked, "Anything else?"

Ziva closed her eyes to recall the events of the previous night. "I believe he was left handed."

Johnson nodded, shifted the sheets of paper in his folder and met Gibbs' eyes across the table.

"What Miss David says about her assailant fits with what we know about the Hair Collector. Our ME says the victims' throats were slashed by a knife with a serrated edge, that the women were attacked from behind and that the cuts were inflicted from right to left, indicating a left-handed killer. Unfortunately, this is all we have on this man-- as you probably know, Agent Gibbs, since I sent a copy of the crime reports to the NCIS Director."

"You don't have any other evidence?" Gibbs asked a bit sceptical, staring hard at the other man to see if he was hiding something.

"No, we haven't. There are no security video cameras in town, except for those in the governmental district. We interrogated the prostitutes near the harbour where the first two victims were killed, but nobody saw anything. No suspicious individuals were seen before the crimes." The chief checked his notes again, shaking his head. "There is no mention of a man matching the body type you described in any of the reports, Miss David."

"What about Captain Andrews' wife?" Gibbs brought up the topic of the murder he was there to investigate.

"Poor woman. She was a respected member of our community. She was killed as she returned home after caring for one of her patients—she was private nurse. The area where she was found is quite distant from the harbour—and from where your aide was attacked too. We scrupulously examined the crime scene but couldn't find a single clue about the killer. As in the other murders, he was careful not to step on the blood or leave traces on the victim's body. He is like a shadow that appears and disappears without leaving anything behind."

"Someone that knows Heavenly Shores City well then," Gibbs mused, not rising his eyes from his notepad. "What about the knife?"

Chief Johnson all but snorted, making Gibbs look at him and give him one of his patented glares.

"Agent Gibbs—this is a hunting and fishing paradise. About everyone on this island owns a serrated knife, me included."

"Is there any individual with a precedent for violent crimes against women on the island?"

"We're keeping an eye on two men – one arrested but not convicted for aggression and attempted rape, the other accused of stalking – but neither of them match the body type of Miss David's attacker."

Gibbs nodded, and Ziva could see by the way he pressed his lips together that he wasn't pleased—and rightly so. He then closed the notepad and stood up, putting an end to the meeting.

"Thank you for your time and help, Chief Johnson," he said, as he started putting away his stuff, imitated by Ziva.

"No need to thank me. I just hope you might help us with this matter. We don't have your experience with these kind of crimes on Nature's Heaven Island. Before this series started, there had been only 4 murders in the past 15 years, and all of them had been pretty straightforward affairs caused by jealousy or greed. We don't know how to deal with serial killers…do you have any advice to give me, Agent Gibbs?" Chief Johnson asked hopefully.

"Just one: put lamplights and security video cameras in the streets."

"I don't think it will be possible. The government is against them. They say it would ruin the atmosphere of the island."

"You could have men patrol the streets at night," Ziva suggested.

"I don't have enough men…As I said, the crime rate is very low here and-"

"Then hire some more men!" Gibbs growled as he marched to the door closely followed by Ziva.

Once out of the Police HQ and back in the sunshine, Gibbs took a deep breath before retrieving a piece of folded paper from his breast pocket. "Do you know where High Cliff Road is? Captain Andrews lives there."

"It's quite close, a ten or so blocks in that direction," Ziva answered. "You want to interrogate him, yes? Do you think he can know something more about his wife's murder?"

"You know how it is…Rule number eight."

"Never take anything for granted."

"Yep. Also, Andrews' brother is a friend of the SecNav, who is probably breathing on Leon's neck even now. I need to show up and talk with him, if only to avoid Vance giving me a speech for not showing 'appropriate respect' to the victim's husband."

"I never thought you would care about it," Ziva mused. Gibbs always followed his own rules and cared little about the toes he stepped on in order to do his job.

"I need to play according to Leon's rules if want to bring you and the boys back," he gave her a meaningful look.

She just nodded, moved by how far he was willing to go in order to all them back together.

**-----**

The talk with former Captain Andrews shed no further light on the case.

The retired officer had been living on the island for the past nine years and he and his wife had no enemies. Life on Nature's Heaven Island was cheaper than in the USA and the retirement check he got from the Navy allowed them to live comfortably, although they had both chosen to work. He had opened a bookstore while his wife – a local woman he had met during a vacation – had continued her job as a private nurse.

At the end of the interview, Gibbs was pretty sure Sarah Andrews had died just because she had been in the wrong place at the wrong moment.

"So, what do you think?" Ziva asked him as they slowly walked back toward her house.

"I'm perplexed. This dirtbag doesn't seem to have a favourite type of victim like the other serial killers I've met in the past. From the photos I have here in the file Vance gave me yesterday, the three dead women were all physically different from each other—or you. Also the murders don't seem to have happened during any special time. No full moon or other shit like that. More, the interval between each killing is different. There is no discernible pattern in this bastard's actions."

Ziva nodded. "I understand. What do you plan to do now?"

"I'll take you home, then I'll go to the communication centre and give a sitrep to Vance. I'll also talk with Ducky about this killer's strange _modus operandi_, and ask Langer – he's a member of my new team – to check all the people that arrived on this island the past three months. That's, if Chief Johnson's superiors allow NCIS access to their records." Gibbs smirked and shrugged. "There isn't really much I can do; after all I've no jurisdiction here and I'm sure Vance wouldn't be pleased if he received complaints from the authorities I'm interrogating their citizens without authorization."

"And keeping Vance pleased is your top priority at the moment," Ziva commented, as he nodded grimly.

They walked in silence until they reached her cottage. Once there, she opened the door but instead of going inside, she turned around and faced him.

"May I invite you to dinner this evening?" she asked, her heart speeding up as she waited for his answer.

"You cooking?" Gibbs inquired, arching his eyebrow.

"Yes."

"Then I'll be here. What time?"

"19.00"

"OK. See you later, Ziver."

Ziva watched his retreating back till he disappeared among the crowd, thrilled by both the nickname Gibbs had just given her and the fact he had accepted her offer.

She took a deep breath to calm down, despite the fact that her excitement was already mounting. She had taken the first step of what – she hoped – would turn to be the most important evening of her life. Now she needed to make sure everything would be perfect for the moment she would declare her love to Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

---------------------

OK, review please, and let me know how you hope the dinner will play out! Remember, reviews make me update faster!!! *wink*


	5. Chapter 5

Thank you to dolphinsiren77...happy you liked that description!

Oh, the "winner" of the guessing game was gillianfoster...you know what you wrote, so you know what is gonna happen...:)

**-----**

Hours later, Ziva observed her handiwork. She had dragged the kitchen table to the small patio behind her cottage and arranged it there with care. She had put many coloured lanterns on the low fence surrounding the patio, and a single candle burned on the table.

It was very cosy and romantic, just as she had meant it to be. Once set on her path, Ziva didn't like to mince words or beat around the bush. She wanted to make it clear from the start the reason for her invitation. She wanted to know at once, by the way Gibbs would react, how the evening would progress.

Satisfied that everything was all right with the setting, Ziva checked her own attire. She had not packed anything overtly elegant or sexy for the mission, so she had had to settle for a camisole in shimmering dark green silk, matching slacks and sandals. Her hair was loose on her shoulders and she wore just a bit of makeup.

The doorbell rang, almost startling her.

_Calm down, David__!_ she muttered to herself in Hebrew. _Control!_ Ziva took a steadying breath and went to open the door.

As soon as she saw Gibbs her just regained calm flew out of the window. He was standing in front of her completely dressed in black, with a sexy – there was no other way to describe it – smirk on his lips and a bottle of wine in his hand.

Her heart skipped a beat when she saw how he briefly but thoroughly scanned her, and how his eyes flashed with approval.

The atmosphere between them was suddenly charged with electricity and in that precise moment Ziva realized her feelings were reciprocated and that she wasn't the only one who had planned a seduction for that night.

Moistening her dry lips, she motioned Gibbs inside the house and closed the door.

"This way," she said softly, leading him to the patio.

Gibbs stopped as soon as he set a foot outdoor and his eyes took in the setting she had so carefully arranged. Ziva saw his nostrils flare as he posed the wine bottle on the table. Then, slowly, he turned to face her and murmured, "Are you really hungry, Ziva?"

"What?" her mind was overloaded by the intent way Gibbs was looking at her.

"I asked if you are hungry, Ziva," he drawled, taking a step closer. "'Cause if you aren't, we can eat after…"

"After what?" she asked throatily, her eyes fixed on his darkened ones as his face came closer and closer.

"After this…" Gibbs closed the distance between them and took her lips with his own.

The kiss started slow, sweet, undemanding, but it quickly escalated in ardour as Ziva opened her mouth to admit his questioning tongue.

They pressed against each other, hands buried in hair, groaning in each other's mouth as the passion it was now clear they had both been suffocating from for a long time overwhelmed them.

"Oh Ziva," Gibbs murmured as he broke the kiss to refill his breath-deprived lungs, and he embraced her tightly, in a way that was both tender and possessive.

"Jethro," she whispered in his ear, tasting the sound of his name on her lips as she wrapped her arms around his broad back.

"I love you, you know?" Gibbs said lowly, taking a half-step back to stare into her eyes.

"I love you too," Ziva answered, her throat tight with emotion at the realization her greatest desire and fondest dream had just become reality.

But she had no time to muse longer, because he captured her mouth again and robbed her of her ability to think. She could just feel…

Love. Passion. Heat. His hardness pressed against her belly. His musky scent. Her core getting moist with her growing desire. Her impudent hand slipping inside his shirt…

"I think it would be best if we took this inside," Gibbs panted, before returning to drop kisses on her neck.

"Yes… first door on the right."

"Uhm…"

They backed into the house without breaking their embrace, until they reached the bedroom and the door was slammed shut behind them.

Ziva shivered when Gibbs' arms let go of her. She had gotten used to his heat and the evening breeze coming from the slightly opened window raised goose bumps on her skin.

"Are you cold?" he asked, observing her.

"Yes… Warm me, Jethro… Make love to me," she commanded, stepping back into his embrace.

But even as desirous as they were, they both decided to take it slowly, to calmly savour the moment they had waited for so long.

Their hands were gentle as they undressed each other, caressing the flesh they had just exposed, loving it with their fingers and lips.

Ziva was amazed by how soft the skin of his chest was. It seemed almost odd it could be so delicate, stretched as it was over hard muscles that spoke of his inner and physical strength. Then she stopped her caresses and raised her head to look at Gibbs, expecting him to take the lead.

He did and, starting from her forehead, he kissed and licked every inch of her skin, reserving more attention to all those spots that made her sigh in pleasure or hold her breath in expectation.

For several, sublime minutes his hot tongue trailed a path of fire down her body, as his hands caressed the spots where his mouth was not, causing a trembling to begin deep in her body.

Ziva needed him inside her. Now.

"Jethro," she moaned, and he raised his head to look at her from his kneeling position, his eyes shining in the scarce light.

"Yes?"

"Let's lie down…" she looked longingly at the bed.

Gibbs smiled and shook his head, "Not yet…"

He stood up, took her by the hand and, to her confusion, led her to the wall, making her lean back against it. He then knelt down, beginning again his slow, delicious torture. But this time, after kissing her belly, he pointed straight to the nest of curls at the apex of her thighs.

At the feel of his breath on her moist core, Ziva moaned aloud, understanding what he was planning to do.

"I gather you approve…" Gibbs said, pulling back just the time to give her a pleased, even smug smile, then he returned to his previous actions.

His lips were again on her, first kissing her belly, then lower and lower, while purposeful hands caressed the inside of her thighs.

He stopped for a moment to softly blow over her curls, damp with the increasing proof of her desire. And when Ziva softly moaned and arched her back against the wall, he grabbed one of her calves, lifted her leg and hooked it over his shoulder and used a callused fingertip to delineate the length of the slick, sensitive folds, making her moan louder. With a secretive smile of pure male satisfaction, Gibbs replaced the touch of his finger with that of his tongue...

Soon the room was filled only by her moans and little whimpers as his tongue slid across her centre and teased slow circles around her clit. Her hips rocked against his face, her pleasure quickly increasing as his lips joined his tongue, gently sucking at her.

Her eyes had remained tightly shut during the sweet torture but at the mind-blowing sensation of being taken into his mouth, they snapped open- only to find herself directly looking into the mirror set on the opposite wall of the bedroom.

The sight that greeted her brought extra heat to her already aroused being: his naked, lean body kneeling between her spread thighs, his fairer skin a vivid contrast against the olive-toned, female leg draped over his shoulder.

Ziva's grabbed his head and pressed it to her needy core. "Please," she begged, and he obliged her, his hot tongue sliding a last time against her swollen clit, sending her over the edge. She cried out aloud, delicious waves of pleasure coursing along her body. Her legs shook and her knees gave out, but Gibbs was quick to take her in his arms and gently sit her on the low bed, hugging her and whispering sweet nonsense in her ears until she regained her breath and calmed down.

Then he tilted her head and kissed her with urgency, his tongue thrusting deeply into her mouth, and giving her a taste of herself.

"Ziva," he groaned against her neck, his engorged member throbbing with desire and need. "I need a-"

"No, you don't. I'm on the pill," she replied, sliding over the mattress, to come to sit on the very edge of the bed, spreading her legs, and stretching her hands behind her back for leverage. "Come, Jethro… fill me."

Enflamed by her hoarse voice, Gibbs rose to his knees, grabbed her waist, and then, rolling his hips up, he took her.

They moaned together, heads thrown back, backs arched, at the feel of each other.

Her muscles clamped around his hard length as he began to move, first slowly, then faster and harder into her, as her hips rocked to meet his every thrust. On and on they went, his erection caressing every pleasure point inside her as his rhythm increased, her inner muscles tightening around him with insistence.

In the end they could no longer resist the pull of their bodies and they came. First Ziva, crying out aloud, as her orgasm crashed in overwhelming waves, then Gibbs, roaring with passion as his entire body shuddered and his seed erupted into her.

Her arms gave out, and she fell back on the bed, exhausted, as his upper body collapsed over her, his arms around her torso, their bodies still intimately joined. They remained in that position until their heartbeats slowed down, then Gibbs slipped out of her and crawled on the bed to lie beside her.

"Are you all right?" he murmured, raising on his elbow, pushing a lock of her sweaty hair behind her ear.

"Yes…" Ziva whispered, turning to look at his face, raising a still trembling hand to caress his cheek. "And you? Your knee…I forgot about it when I chose this position…"

Gibbs grinned, "I forgot about it too!" he captured her hand, took it to his mouth, where he kissed each of her fingers. They then slid up the bed, slipped beneath the covers and quickly fell asleep, happy and sated in each other's arms.

-------------

OK, did you like how the dinner played out? Please let me know! And for those wishing Ziva and Gibbs would have a good talk, don't worry, they will!


	6. Chapter 6

**Well, I'm somehow surprised the previous chapter got far less reviews than the others. Is it an indication that anticipation and UST are better than delivering the goods? I wouldn't be too surprised if it was so. I know from past experience that it happens very often with TV series. **

**Oh well, let's go on with the story, and let our lovers finally have that promised dinner...;P**

**-----**

Later that evening, Gibbs was sitting cross legged on the mattress as he and Ziva ate the dinner she had prepared. He was wearing his boxers and t-shirt, she his black shirt, they were eating with their hands, and their eyes seldom stopped looking at the other.

He was still amazed by how the evening had played out. True, he had gone to her cottage with the intention of revealing his feelings for her, but he hadn't predicted it would be so easy or things would have moved so fast.

His well-rehearsed speech had fled his mind the very moment Ziva had opened the door. One look at her and he had understood. One look and he had realized his careful speech wasn't necessary. One look, and he had known she loved him as much he loved her—and so he had acted.

What had followed had been one of the most beautiful and intense couplings of his life. He couldn't remember the last time he had made love with so much emotion thrown in the mix and the experience had been mind-blowing.

Gibbs grinned as he looked at how Ziva ate her meal; she might not have been hungry before, but she certainly was now! He watched her nimble fingers pick a piece of chicken from the bowl and take it to her mouth and he thought how even her simplest gestures were so graceful.

Ziva noticed his gaze and looked at him with an interrogative expression. "What? Is something wrong?"

"No, no nothing. I was just thinking you look so elegant even now, dressed with my shirt, eating with your fingers, and with your hair ruffled and still damp from the shower."

She smiled, her eyes shining, then she sobered. "May I ask you something, Jethro?"

"You can ask me anything you want," he answered, loving the way she said his name.

"For how long have you loved me?"

Gibbs finished chewing a leaf of salad, taking his time before answering. "Honestly? I don't know."

"You don't?" she sounded a bit disappointed.

"No. I can't pinpoint the moment I began loving you, Ziva, but I can precisely tell you when I realized I loved you."

"Really?" she brightened again and scooted closer to him. "When it was?"

"The day of Jenny's funeral, after Vance split us up, the moment I realized you were leaving and there was the chance I'd never see you again." Gibbs took a sip of wine as he organized his thoughts. He was unused to sharing his feelings with anyone else. Revealing private thoughts and memories was like giving away parts of him, and he had learned not do it after his ex-wives had used some of the things he had told them against him.

But this time was different. This was Ziva, and he trusted her. He had done so almost from the first moment he had seen her. It felt right to talk to her…and so he did.

"There has always been a bond between us, I know you felt it as much as I did."

She nodded, encouraging him to go on.

"Perhaps it's due to the fact we know we both have an inner streak of darkness within us. We're both trained killers, no matter how we choose to sweeten the truth or rationalize it. We kill in cold blood, with premeditation, not in the heat of the battle as common soldiers. We understood this side of each other from the start, and it's not something that happened often to me. All of my ex-wives brushed away the fact I had been a sniper, unwilling to think what the job really entitled. Then, of course you killed your brother to save me and brought my memories back when I was blown up—you, the person I had known for the shortest time among those who had tried to help me. When I came back from Mexico to help you, I did it not because I had a debt with you, but because I cared and was worried for you, and I just knew in my gut you weren't involved in whatever they were accusing you of. However, I don't think it was already love—and if it was, then I was refusing to acknowledge it."

"Because of rule number twelve?" Ziva asked, her eyes studying him intently.

"Partially. You see, even if I had recovered the memories I had lost after the explosion, my feelings were still mixed up. Intellectually, I knew Shannon and Kelly had been dead for the past 15 years, but emotionally, their loss still seemed much more recent. As things were, it was a miracle I didn't seek another redhead to marry…" Gibbs muttered, bitterness colouring his tone.

"A red head…no; a blond one…yes," Ziva interjected, and her eyes flashed with pain.

Gibbs was stunned as he realized for how long she had to have been in love with him. "You were upset by my relationship with Hollis?"

Ziva nodded, just once, eyes downcast.

"Oh Ziva, I never meant to cause you pain," Gibbs pulled her unresisting form into his arms and kissed the top of her head. "Ziver, Hollis was near me in a moment I needed someone close. Jenny was hiding things from me, taken as she was by her quest for revenge against La Grenouille. Ducky was barely talking to me because he couldn't forgive me for not telling him about my late family. Tony kept on disappearing, and I knew he was involved in some kind of 'need to know' operation. I was unsettled by the latent lack of trust I could perceive, even if I knew it was partially my fault. It was then that Hollis and I became close. I liked her company, but I never allowed her to come too near to me. We never really talked, not as we're doing now."

Ziva nodded against his chest and pulled back to look at him. "That is right. You are talking a lot and this is quite surprising, Jethro. You are not an open man. Oh, your emotions run deep, but you seldom show them, unless it is rage or irritation. You never spoke of your past and yet, now…" she gestured with her hand.

Gibbs looked straight at her serious eyes. "While it's true I've never been very talkative, I was much more open about myself and my feelings when I was with Shannon. I felt at ease with her. She wasn't only my wife and lover, but also my best friend. After she died, I closed off. Shannon and Kelly's deaths almost killed me and I didn't want to suffer again like that. I didn't want anyone to get again as close to me that losing them would mean to lose a part of me. But everything is different with you. When I saw you leave two months ago, and again yesterday when I thought of what could have happened to you, I realized that somehow you had slid under my skin without me noticing it, and that now you're so close to me that losing you would cause me to suffer as I did when I lost Shannon and Kelly. So, since it was obviously too late to keep you at arm's length as I did with all the other women, I decided there was only one thing I could do. I decided I had to pull you even closer, as close as possible—and I did," Gibbs flashed Ziva a smile before kissing her.

They leisurely kissed for a few moments and then separated. He took a bite of the chicken and tilted his head toward her. "Your turn. When did you start to love me?"

Ziva smiled with happiness and said, "For me it was love at first sight…well, second or third sight. I started loving you when we had that conversation in Abby's lab, the one about snipers calling their rifle "Kate" and the reason Ari was targeting the women of your team."

Gibbs nodded, "I remember it."

"Then you will also remember that you basically offered to act as a bait to attract Ari, counting on me to cover your back if he turned out to be the traitor you thought him to be. Me! Ari's control officer! No one had ever shown so much trust in me—and it touched a cord inside me. After that and Ari's death, I did all I could to convince my father to send me to work for NCIS, at your side-- Jenny helped a lot too, of course. I believe she thought I needed a change of pace, but I wonder what she would have done if she knew my real motivation."

Ziva shrugged, as she shook away certain memories, then looked intently at his eyes. "My love for you has kept on growing during the time I've spent working with you and learning from you, Jethro. You have no idea of how many times I imagined making a pass at you, but I never did. You were my boss, older than me and I had no idea of how you saw me. For a time I was not even sure you _liked_ me. Maybe I was just someone you had to endure because Jenny saddled you with me. As time passed, I realized you cared for me, but as what? A colleague? A friend? A…daughter?"

She scrunched her nose and Gibbs laughed at her expression. "And then, just like you, I had a sort of epiphany yesterday evening and I realized nothing is gained without some risk. So I risked…and you know how it ended," Ziva gestured at them and the rumpled sheets with a smile.

"I'm glad you did, Ziver," he smiled, as his groin tightened with renewed desire. "I've one more question."

"Just one?" Ziva answered playfully.

"Yes. A very important one."

"Shoot."

"Are you still hungry? 'Cause if you aren't, there is another way we can make use of this bed…"

-----------------

A/N: I know that perhaps Gibbs talks too much in this part, but I've based this on what I know of myself. I'm quite a silent person, and I'm a loner. However, when I'm with my two best friends, I talk so freely and so much one wouldn't recognize me! I do it because I feel at ease with them and I'm always happy when I'm with them, two people I seldom see because they both live in different towns. Anyway, I thought Gibbs might feel the same with Ziva and I wrote him accordingly.


	7. Chapter 7

Thanks to horseninja for the review!

**III**

The next morning Ziva and Gibbs were at the kitchen counter, eating cereal and sipping the coffee she had prepared. It wasn't as good as the one they had had the previous morning, but given their current mood, neither of them could care less.

They were eating in silence, but the atmosphere between them was warm, intimate, tender.

Ziva had never been happier in her whole life. Jethro was a wonderful partner, considerate and demanding in the right measure, willing to go slow but ruthless in taking and giving pleasure. But her joy at discovering their sexual compatibility was nothing compared to the joy she had felt upon listening to his nightly talk about his love for her.

She felt overwhelmed by how open Jethro had been, about his past and his emotions, something that, if she had read correctly between the lines, he hadn't done with any of his ex-wives and former lovers. She felt privileged by the trust he had again put in her and silently vowed to never break it.

The doorbell rang, interrupting the silence of the kitchen. Gibbs turned to look at her, "Are you waiting for someone?"

"No."

The bell rang again as a muffled voice was heard from beyond the door.

"Agent Gibbs? Are you there?"

Gibbs stood up at once. "It must be Chief Johnson. Yesterday afternoon I told him that, if he needed me, he could find me here if I wasn't at the hotel."

"It must be really important to come here so early in the morning," Ziva commented, rising to her feet.

Breakfast forgotten, they went to open the door. As predicted, their visitor was the police chief.

"Chief Johnson," Gibbs said with a nod.

"Agent Gibbs, Miss David," the man tilted his head in greeting. "There has been another victim of the Hair Collector. My men have secured the crime scene and I thought you might want to see it." By the tone of his voice, it was evident the Chief desperately wished Gibbs would go to see the crime scene. He probably hoped the US federal agent would be able to shed some light on the killer's identity.

"Thanks for alerting us, Chief. We appreciate it. Ziva, grab-"

"-your gear," she completed with a smile.

She left the men on the door steps and went to fetch her backpack, putting a small sketch pad and her digital camera inside it. It was like she was working again with NCIS and it felt so damn good.

Once she was done, Ziva joined Gibbs and Johnson and together they boarded the police two-horse cart that was waiting in the street and trotted away, toward the central area of Heavenly Shores City.

**-----**

The victim was lying on her back in an alley near one of the town only two authorized discos.

She was a woman in her late thirties, early forties, attractive, well-dressed, certainly not a whore. Her eyes were still open and her face was frozen in an expression of surprise, but not of terror. A lock of her red hair had been unevenly cut very close to her skull.

Ziva and Gibbs put on the latex gloves Chief Johnson gave them and started examining the scene. Unfortunately, there wasn't much to work on, because it had evidently rained after the murder had been committed, and the water had washed away the blood and any other evidence there might have been.

As Ziva sketched the scene and pointed out stuff to Johnson' men, so they could bag and tag them, Gibbs used the camera, taking pictures of the body and its position. Then he approached the local ME and asked if it would possible for him to take detailed shots of the slashed throat and the wound's edges.

After getting Johnson's approval, the ME helped Gibbs by pulling apart the cut edges and using a special ruler to record width, length and depth of the wound.

When he was done, Gibbs put away the camera and went to talk with Johnson.

"Who is the victim?"

"Marie Louise LaBelle, 41, Canadian citizen," the Chief answered. "We found her ID card inside her purse, along with a lot of cash and a stack of credit cards. Whomever this killer is, he isn't interested in the money."

Gibbs observed the victim's clothes. They, along with what Johnson had just said, made him comment, "She doesn't look like the type of woman who would attend this kind of place." The alley was crowded by many of the disco patrons, most of them young, dressed with ripped jeans and skimpy shirts, some showing impressive collections of tattoos or piercings.

"No, this certainly isn't the place where you would expect to find a woman like her. However, one of the bouncers told me she had taken a fancy for the DJ."

"Uhm…" grunted Gibbs. "Did you talk with him?"

"Yes; he said he had never seen her before. He could be lying, of course, but even if he is, he didn't meet her yesterday, because he had been working from 22.00 to 05.00, and the bouncer said he saw the woman near the gate around midnight. According to our ME, she was killed shortly afterward. The body was discovered at 05.00, when the disco closed and all the exits, including the one opening on this alley, were opened to allow the patrons to leave quickly."

Gibbs took some quick notes on his notepad, then asked, "Was she married?"

"Yes, to Jacques LaBelle, a rich Canadian industrialist. He divides his time between here and Montreal and he has several interests on this and other nearby islands." Chief Johnson ran a hand over his thinning hair. "This is a nightmare and she is the worst possible victim we could have. LaBelle is already protesting with the central authorities and the Canadian press will soon land here like a flock of vultures…"

"Do you think your government will now allow security cameras and lights in the streets?" Gibbs growled, not sympathetic at all with the other man's plight.

Johnson raised defeated eyes on him, and Gibbs felt some of his rage recede. It wasn't the man's fault. He knew all too well how hard it was to work with politicians that cared only about not upsetting those who had sponsored their campaigns.

Ziva rejoined Gibbs as Marie Louise LaBelle's body was carried away, and they fell silent, showing respect for the poor, unfortunate woman.

Once the coroner's cart had left, Johnson returned to look at Gibbs. "I saw you took many detailed photos of the gash at her throat. What do you plan to do with them?"

"I'll email them to the NCIS's ME in the hope he discovers something helpful, but to be honest I've not many expectations. This bastard is very good, and he had even the rain on his side this time."

Johnson nodded. "I see." A sigh. "Do you have any suggestions about our next moves?"

"Other than installing lights and cameras?"

"Yes."

"In your place, I would monitor all the communications to see if someone saw something suspicious. I would also go house to house to ask if someone saw Mrs. LaBelle yesterday night, and if there was someone in the area that looked like he was waiting for someone. Other than that, I don't know what else I could do to help you, Chief."

Shortly afterward, Gibbs and Ziva left the crime scene and walked toward the communication centre.

"So, what do you think?" she asked after a while.

Gibbs shook his head and stared far ahead, lost in thought. Then he said, "I'm puzzled. As you have seen, Mrs. LaBelle was completely different from the other victims, so we do have proof he doesn't have a type. Also, this murder came very close to your attempted one."

"This could mean the interval between the killings is getting shorter or that he wasn't satisfied by simply cutting my hairs, and that he needs to kill and not just take a trophy."

"Yeah…Damn it!" Gibbs said angrily, and Ziva reached out with her arm, rubbing his tense back. "I hate feeling so powerless!"

"It is not your fault. This monster is not leaving any evidence behind."

"It's not that. If I was in charge, I would order every man in town to come to the police HQ. I would ask all of those with a body type similar to your attacker's to give us an alibi for yesterday night—and I would throw in the interrogation room all of those without one. I would also run a massive search for that damned knife and-"

"- who cares if you managed to piss off a lot of important people," Ziva added.

"Yeah…that's part of the job. Chief Johnson not only has no experience in these matters, but he's too afraid to upset the high brasses. I would like very much to burst into some office and shake some common sense into those thick skulls, but I'm controlling myself."

"Why? You are not afraid of them, are you?" Ziva teased.

Gibbs glared at her. "'Cause I would only be put on the first departing plane and that would really piss Vance off…something we can't afford to do just now," he said, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips.

Ziva nodded and swallowed hard. She didn't want to be reminded that in eight days-- perhaps even sooner if Vance recalled her lover before she was scheduled to leave—she and Jethro would have to part, neither of them knowing if they would see each other again.

_No,_ she thought. _Not 'if'. 'When', because now that I have found him I've no intention of ever letting him go. _

_---------------------------_

So, any theories about the Hair Collector? :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank you for all your reviews. Sorry I didn't reply privately as I usually do, but there are troubles with my Internet connection, so I chose to post this at once before I lost the connection again.**

**Oh, I'm quite pleased to say none of the theories I read about the Hair Collector went close to the truth...which will be revealed in tomorrow's chapter! :)**

**-----**

Gibbs was almost dozing when he sensed Ziva sit up at his side and throw back the sheet.

"What are you doing?" he grunted, not opening his eyes. He just hoped she didn't want more just now, because his recovery time was no longer what it used to be.

"I want to look at you," she replied and he heard the soft click of the bedside lamp being switched on.

"Why?" he asked, finally opening his eyes.

"Because I've not yet had the time to look at you properly as we make love," Ziva answered, matter-of-factly.

"Do you have to do it now?" Gibbs growled, a bit embarrassed by what she wanted to do.

"There isn't a better time than now," she quoted. "You can return to sleep, if you prefer, but I'm going to look at you now."

"But why?" he insisted.

Ziva all but groaned in frustration at his stubbornness. "Because I've eyes too, Jethro. We have made love several times, and you've always taken your sweet time to look at me—now it is time I do the same."

Gibbs sighed and rolled onto his back. This wasn't a battle he could win; he could only let Ziva have her way and hope she would like what she saw.

It was difficult to stay still as she perused him with her sharp, hawk-like eyes. Gibbs had never minded getting old, for he knew the only way not to age was to die young, and he preferred being alive, thank you very much. He also knew women found him handsome, but this wasn't any woman, this was Ziva, the only member of the fairer sex he wanted to find him attractive.

He couldn't help but feel uneasy as she observed his stomach, a part of his body that had softened a bit with age, or his chest, where the brown hair was slowly but inexorably turning grey.

Then Ziva smiled, a slow, satisfied grin, and Gibbs relaxed.

"You're very handsome, Jethro," she said throatily, and the sound made even his sated member twitch.

"Happy to hear it. May I cover myself and go back to sleep now?"

"Not yet. There are a few things I want to check more closely…"

"Oh God," he muttered, as Ziva reclined by his side and started sliding her hand down his body, her touch delicate, not sexual, just curious. She was exploring, not trying to arouse.

She touched the round scar he had on his left shoulder. "This is where Ari shot you?"

"Yeah."

"And this?" Ziva fingered another round scar, this time on his right side.

"Another bullet; I took it while I was working in Europe with Jenny."

"In Italy, yes?"

"How do you know?"

"I remember that Jenny once said she had been in Positano – we were having a girls' talk about romantic locations – but that she never toured the village because she had to care for her wounded partner."

Gibbs grunted. "I wasn't an invalid. She could have toured Positano as much as she liked as I slept in the hotel…"

"I don't think it would have been the same without you…" Ziva commented.

He knew she was aware he and Jenny had been together, so he had no problem in admitting the truth. "Probably not."

Ziva smiled, but she didn't pursue the topic and returned to the exploration of his body. She moved down the bed until she reached his left knee.

"So," she said running her fingertips along one of the two parallel scars that ran at the sides of his knee-cap, "this is your infamous knee. The one that turns you into an angry bear when the weather is too damp or cold. What happened to it?"

"A bomb in Kuwait."

"The explosion that caused your first coma?"

"Yep. We were attacked by Iraqi artillery less than one hour after I got the news Shannon and Kelly had died. I still don't know if that day I wasn't fast enough to take cover or if I was just hoping for a bomb to kill me and put an end to my aguish…" he murmured, and Ziva squeezed his hand in silent support. After a moment of silence, Gibbs gestured to his knee. "The ligaments were torn and had to be reconstructed, while a plate and some screw were inserted to fix the bone."

"It looks really bad."

"It was. It took me four months to return to walking without crutches—and then I was informed that if I stayed in the Corps, I would have to sit behind a desk for the rest of my career."

"So you left the Marines and joined NCIS…"

"Yes. Mike told me my knee wouldn't be much of a problem as an agent, and that I could still be able to serve my country by protecting the sailors and Marines that fought for America. I believed him, so I took up his offer—and I never regretted my choice." Gibbs stared at Ziva seriously.

She smiled gently. "I'm happy you did. We wouldn't have met if you stayed in the Corps."

"Maybe—or maybe not. You know what they say, 'never say ever'…" And speaking so, Gibbs pulled Ziva up and rolled atop of her.

Their conversation had woken him up – in more than one way – and he knew the perfect way to get sleepy again…

**------**

Liked the mushy moment? I hope so! I had a lot of fun imagining what Ziva is looking at....*wink*

Now, regarding Gibbs' tale about how he was wounded and how he joined NIS, here there are some of my thoughts about it.

If you watch the flashback in "Hiatus" you hear Gibbs cry "Nooo!"after being given the news of his family's death, then you saw him run with his rifle in hand, then the explosion. I read some people thought Gibbs ran toward a minefield on purpose, crazy with pain. This interpretation never crossed my mind. I always thought the "Noo!" was just an echo of what he cried/thought after he was given the news, and that the explosion was caused because they were attacked shortly afterward, hence what I wrote here.

Secondly, when this story was written, "Deliverance " and "The Legend" had yet to be aired, thus I had no idea Gibbs was still a Marine when he killed his family's murderer. I thought his tragedy sort of forced him to leave the Corps. In "Hiatus" we saw a scene when he stares at a gun, clearly suicidal, with a lot of empty liquor bottles near him...Also, the most idealistic part of me liked to think Gibbs would haven't dishonoured his uniform by committing a murder -- because it was a murder, no matter how justified it was-- while still being a Marine.

Personally, I think that what we were told in "Deliverance" and "The Legend" conflicts badly with what we were told in "Hiatus". IE, the Gulf War started in January 1991 and Gibbs visited his family's graves, still walking with crutches in June 1991 after the coma etc. Then in August 1991 he joined NIS. Now, how can they expect me to believe that in two months he completely recovered (I had a broken leg and it took me months after the crutches were gone to be again 100% fit), went to Mexico, killed Hernandez, returned home and in active duty, was sent in Columbia, was wounded again and then was investigated by Macy about Hernandez's death? And please, how could Macy know about Hernandez's murder when Jenny -- the NCIS director!!!-- didn't know about it?! The guy was wanted by the US government, the Mexican police didn't know where he was and Shannon and Kelly's murder was still a cold case in 2006. One would think that if the Marines knew about the guy's death and knew enough about him to connect his murder to Gibbs, then the NIS and the Mexican authorities would know it too! I guess Macy could have buried the evidence as far as the Marines went, but what about the Mexican authorities?

To me this is a sure sign the writers didn't do their homeworks. So, for the purpose of this story (and for most of my other works), I won't take in account what was said in "Deliverance " and "The Legend" about Gibbs' past.

Sorry for the rant, but I hate when writers mess up with perfectly working backstories!


	9. Chapter 9

**To horseninja: thank you for the review!**

**-----**

Two days later, Gibbs and Ziva were sleeping wrapped in each other's arms when the doorbell of the cottage rang.

It was quite late by their usual wake-up time, but they hadn't slept much during the night.

The previous day they had gotten the news they had been dreading: Gibbs had been recalled to Washington and would have to leave that evening.

Gibbs' gut had been churning when he had gone to give the sit-rep to Vance. Ducky had found nothing useful in the photos he had emailed to NCIS, and the investigations on the island were leading nowhere.

He had known it was just a matter of days before Vance called him back, but even knowing it hadn't prepared him for the pain he had felt when the Director had ordered him to take the first flight to DC, because his team needed him and he couldn't be wasted any longer away from the office.

He had obeyed—well, almost. Technically, the first plane to DC would have left that same evening, and Gibbs could have booked a seat had he wanted to—but he hadn't. Instead, he had booked a seat on the next day flight.

He had wanted, no needed, time to properly say goodbye to Ziva. He had needed to make some more memories to keep him company when he would be alone again—and he had wanted her to have the chance to make her own memories.

Ziva had taken the news in silence, as the trooper she was, but her eyes had been suspiciously bright. They had embraced then, both seeking and giving comfort, but in a few moments the hug had turned from comforting to passionate.

They had ripped each other's clothes off and made love with a hunger that was almost scary in its intensity. They had loved each other long into the night, and Gibbs had been surprised by how quickly his not so young body had recovered, allowing him to join with Ziva again and again, until they had been completely spent.

The doorbell rang again and then someone knocked on the glass of the bedroom's window.

"Agent Gibbs, are you there? There has been another one!" Chief Johnson's voice shouted as he knocked again.

The noise finally managed to wake up Gibbs, and he blinked his eyes, momentarily confused.

"Agent Gibbs!"

Now totally awake, Gibbs jumped from the bed, grabbed and put on his boxers and t-shirt and rushed to open the door.

"Chief!" he called aloud.

Johnson turned the corner of the house running. He didn't even bother to greet Gibbs. "There has been another victim…a girl!" he almost cried.

Gibbs balled his fists in anger, "We'll be ready in five minutes."

He rushed inside the house without bothering to close the door and burst into the bedroom.

Ziva was awake and came fully alert as she saw the look on his face.

"Another one?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered grimly, grabbing his trousers and pulling them on, happy they had the good idea to take a shower before finally falling asleep. "A girl."

Ziva muttered something in Hebrew, probably a curse, and jumped out of the bed, looking for clean clothes.

Four minutes later, the pair left the cottage and boarded the cart where Chief Johnson was waiting for them.

**-----**

The victim was a 14-year-old girl, who had committed the imprudence of sneaking out of her house to meet her boyfriend- a boy her father had forbidden her to see.

Ziva felt an infinite sadness upon witnessing the terror painted on the girl's face. Contrary to the previous murder, this victim had been aware of what was going to happen to her.

She saw Gibbs kneel by the body and gently stroke the girl's long, chestnut hair, studying the spot, close to her skull, where it had been hastily cut. He then raised his eyes to look at her and she saw how haunted they were.

"Fourteen years old, Ziva," he murmured. "She had a whole life in front of her. She was just a girl reckless to meet the boy she loved…she didn't deserve to end like this."

Ziva didn't reply. What could she say to comfort him?

Gibbs shook his head and stood up, observing the place around them.

The road where the homicide had been committed was narrow and flanked by walls. There were no houses opening on it, just gardens, and an abandoned area that was used to dump trash.

Gibbs walked to check if the gates of the various gardens were closed and lowering his eyes he noticed a piece of white rag just inside the trash deposit. It seemed somehow incongruous to see such a pristine piece of fabric in that dirty place, so he knelt to examine it.

Gibbs unfolded it and gasped. The fabric wasn't as clean as he had thought, but stained with brownish spots and, more importantly, it contained a lock of long, chestnut hair. He clutched it in his fist as he straightened, his gaze lost far away. He didn't notice Ziva had approached him until she put a hand of his forearm.

"Are you all right, Jethro? It seems like you have seen a ghost."

He blinked his eyes and looked at her. "No, I haven't seen a ghost... but perhaps…perhaps I saw the light...What if we had been wrong from the start?"

"What do you mean?" Ziva frowned.

"We've always thought this dirtbag was a serial killer with no other motivations than a sick mind. But what if there is no 'Hair Collector'?"

"What are you saying, Agent Gibbs?" Chief Johnson interjected, having joined the pair.

Gibbs showed him what he had found and asked again, "What if there is no serial killer? What if these are just murders?"

Johnson looked at him, confused. "But who would be interested in killing all these women? Only a madman-"

"Or someone who wanted to hide a single murder within a series," Ziva guessed, and Gibbs nodded.

"Exactly."

"It's impossible!" Johnson protested.

"No, it isn't. There is a question we failed to ask to ourselves, so blinded we were by the smoke he blew in our eyes because of the mystery behind the missing hair. _Cui prodest?_"

Both Johnson and Ziva stared at him blankly and Gibbs smiled briefly.

"It's Latin, something Ducky told me long ago. It roughly means 'who profits from this'?"

Gibbs stared ahead as pressed on, "The first two victims were two prostitutes- nobody benefited by their death. The third one was Andrews' wife, who had no money of her own and seems to have let behind a truly devastated husband. The fourth intended victim was you Ziva, but I don't think someone would have a reason to kill you—at least not here."

She shook her head.

"The sixth victim is this poor girl, too young to have enemies or to have people profit from her death- but the fifth one, well, that's another matter. She was a rich woman and, apparently, she was cheating --or intended to-- on her husband."

"Agent Gibbs, certainly you aren't implying Jaques LaBelle killed five women only because he wanted to eliminate his wife! He could have divorced her!" Chief Johnson protested, "This must be the work of a madman, of the 'Hair Collector'-"

"Then why has he left this behind?" Gibbs raised the lock of hair. "This wasn't lost in the street as he was running away. That trash deposit is closed on three sides, he didn't cross it to go somewhere. He went there to get rid of the hair, and I've never met a serial killer that dumps his trophies. They all have a perverse fascination for what they take away from their victims, being piece of jewellery or body parts. Kyle Boone, a bastard SOB I had the pleasure to send to the chair, collected tongues, and I assure you, Chief, he never lost one."

Chief Johnson looked haunted at the girl's body, which was being taken away in that moment, then nodded.

"What do you suggest we do?"

"First of all, you need to investigate LaBelle, something that would have been done from the start if we hadn't been fooled by the whole serial killer crap. You should investigate Andrews too, just to be sure, but my money is on LaBelle. Maybe he couldn't divorce his wife for some reason."

Chief Johnson nodded, and took notes on his pad. "Something else?"

"Talk to LaBelle and to the relatives of the other victims-- hint to the fact you suspect the 'Hair collector' isn't really a serial killer. Scare him. Then put him under strict surveillance. If you're lucky, he'll be scared enough not to try to commit another murder- but if he does, you'll be able to catch him red-handed."

"Or maybe he'll try to get rid of the knife…" Ziva suggested, before turning to look at Johnson. "I'll help you to set up the surveillance on LaBelle. Stakeouts are my speciality."

"Thank you, Miss David. And you, Agent Gibbs? Must you really leave?"

"Yes. My Director wants me back- hell, he wanted me back yesterday. But you now know what you've to do-- just don't let your superiors scare you out of what you know it has to be done. If necessary, remind them the Nature's Heaven Island's economy will suffer if women kept on getting killed. That should shut them up all right."

"I'll keep it in mind," Chief Johnson said with a slight smile, before reaching out with his hand. "Thank you for the help, Agent Gibbs. It was a pleasure to work with you."

"Likewise," Gibbs answered, shaking the offered hand.

"Now, if you forgive me, I have to go…"

"We do too…" Gibbs murmured, looking at Ziva. They had enough time to make some more memories before he had to go to the airport.

**-----**

Gibbs and Ziva were in the transit room of Nature Heaven's Island airport. He had already passed the check in and passport control and was now standing by the "Passengers only beyond this point" check point. His flight had been announced, so in a handful of minutes, he would have to cross the line and leave Ziva behind.

The two lovers stayed there, silent, watching each other, and Gibbs realized that whoever had said "to leave means to die a little" had been right. It was the sensation he was feeling in that moment, he same he had experienced every time he had left Shannon and Kelly behind to be deployed.

Swallowing hard, he shifted his weight from one leg to the other, wishing he could make it as painless as possible, at least for Ziva.

"Ziva, I'm not good at this. I never liked long farewells," he said when, for the first time, the silence between then became oppressive.

"Me neither, and this isn't a farewell, Jethro. We'll keep in contact, yes?" Ziva said, even if a bit of anxiety coloured her voice.

"Yes, of course we will. I've your private cell number and email address here," he patted his breast pocket, where he had stored the precious piece of paper she had given him earlier. "We could even see each other using web-cams."

Ziva laughed, "You have no idea how use them."

"I'll ask Abby or McGee, probably him, to teach me. Hell, I'll have him buy me a new laptop too, for my gut tells me my old one won't be good for this kind of things."

Ziva laughed again, remembering the very old computer poor McGee had used in Gibbs' basement when their team had been put under investigation by FBI for La Grenouille's murder. Her arms still ached at the memory of the hours she had spent standing on Gibbs' unfinished boat holding McGee's cell phone high so it could catch the signal.

"Yes, you'll need help. Just be sure they don't stuff your new PC with load of 'useful' programs you will never use."

"You mean those RPG thingies McGee likes? Afraid I'll turn into an elf lord too?"

"No…not an elf lord. A dragon slayer, maybe. The knight in the shining armour that kills the monster and saves the damsel in distress…"

Gibbs' flight was announced again, silencing his laugh at her joke.

He took a step forward and embraced Ziva.

"I love you, Ziver. Please be careful."

"I love you too, Jethro—take care of yourself and don't rush into any dangerous situation without proper back up."

He nodded, "I won't, I promise."

"Good…and remember you have six months."

Gibbs frowned in confusion. "Six months? For what?"

"To find a way to bring me back to NCIS. If you don't, I will find one myself," Ziva explained.

"How?"

"I have not yet found anything bomb-proof, but I guess that, in the worst case scenario, I can always retire from Mossad and come to the USA with a tourist visa. Then I think I could offer my services to the FBI—I heard they are always looking for translators in Arabic." Gibbs almost growled at the idea of Ziva working for the FBI, his friendship with Tobias Fornell not withstanding.

"I see you don't like the idea…then what about this: you marry me and make me an American citizen…" Ziva threw it as a joke, but Gibbs' eyes flashed with emotion.

"It's not a bad idea…"

She sobered, her eyes filled with longing. "No, it is not…"

"_Last call for flight XT 69208 for Washington DC departing from gate 3. All passengers must board the plane now. Last call…"_

"You must go," Ziva urged him. "Vance would not appreciate if you were left here."

"No."

Gibbs took a step forward and kissed Ziva deeply, a kiss that took her breath away. Then he caressed her cheek, kissed her nose and with a final smile turned around, running past the check point without looking back.

* * *

OK, so what you think? Please let me know!


	10. Chapter 10

**EPILOGUE**

As a sniper, Leroy Jethro Gibbs had learned to be a patient, very patient man. He could and would wait, motionless, for hours for his target—calm, controlled, ready to spring to action with a moment notice.

However, that day, Gibbs was anything but patient. In fact, he had to resist the urge to start pacing and rubbing his sweaty palms on his trousers. He felt like the day he had asked Shannon's father for permission to take her to see a movie.

His eyes kept on looking at the NCIS HQ entry, waiting for Ziva's arrival. He knew her flight from Tel Aviv had landed on schedule and now he could barely contain his need to embrace her again.

The past four weeks had been very hard for both of them. Their almost daily communications had been interrupted when Ziva had told him she had to go on an undercover assignment, and that she wouldn't be able to contact him until she returned.

So Gibbs had done the only things he could do: wait and pray Ziva would be alright and would contact him soon.

Watching her being carried away on a gurney on a ZNN feed, her face smeared with blood had almost paralyzed him with fear, until his brain had kicked in, making him realize her condition couldn't be very serious since she wasn't wearing an oxygen mask or an IV.

That had calmed him a bit, but he hadn't completely relaxed until he had finally managed to talk to her. It hadn't been the private, personal conversation they would have preferred – he had realized Ziva wasn't alone when she had called him Gibbs instead of Jethro – but it had given him the clue he needed to discover why his team had been disbanded and find a way to bring them back.

Sighing, Gibbs walked to the elevator and pushed the button for the squad room floor. It was useless for him to wait in the hall, for it was highly unlikely he would be able to properly welcome Ziva any time soon, no matter where he waited for her.

As he stepped in the bullpen, he saw that Michelle Lee was just finishing cleaning what was again Ziva's desk.

"Done?" he asked gently.

"Done," she answered with a little smile, then continued after a slight hesitation. "Look... I know you never thought much of me as a field agent...You probably never thought much of me as a lawyer…"

"Oh, that's more the profession than the person," Gibbs said in her defence; after all this was the second time she was promoted to field agent only to be sent back to the legal department, and he felt slightly responsible for it.

"But if you ever need... I mean...If the chance ever comes up again..." Lee's cell phone thrilled, interrupting her stammering. She quickly silenced the phone, barely looking at the caller ID.

"Might be important," he said.

Lee smiled again, "It can wait." They shook hands, then he helped her with the box she had filled with her stuff.

As she was about to leave Lee turned around, looked at Langer's empty desk and asked, "Do we know why he did it?"

"Money... probably," Gibbs didn't wish to elaborate. Langer's betrayal was still an open wound. He had vouched for the other man's transfer from the FBI, and he didn't like to think he had been so wrong in judging him.

"Well, thanks. Be seeing you," Lee said and moved toward the elevator.

"Yay! Oh, my God, I'm so excited!" Abby's vibrant voice exclaimed from behind his back, and Gibbs turned around to see his favourite lab rat walk in at McGee's elbow. "McGee, I can't believe it. Pinch me."

Abby left's McGee's side and hugged Gibbs. "Thank you," she said and he hugged her back, briefly envying how free she was to show her emotions.

"It's you! Ziva!" Abby suddenly shouted and Gibbs whirled around, his breath catching in his throat as he saw her walk into the bullpen.

He wanted nothing more than to reach her, pull her into his arms and never let her go, but he had to wait his turn as Ziva was enthusiastically hugged by Abby and shook hands with McGee.

And then, finally, Ziva turned to face him, eyes shining with barely repressed emotions. Gibbs took a step forward and embraced her, pulling her as close as possible while keeping his hug appropriate for one between two colleagues.

"Welcome home, Ziva," he murmured.

"Thank you, Jethro," she whispered close to his ear. "Now let me go, I need to report to Vance."

He nodded and regretfully stepped back, watching how Ziva, after another of Abby's hugs, climbed the stairs to the Director's office.

Then he turned to McGee and Abby and clapped his hands. "All right, the party is over. Time to do some work!"

**-----**

Later that evening, Gibbs came down after a meeting with Vance and stopped by Ziva's desk, finding her engrossed in reading something on her monitor.

Since they were alone, he put his hands on the desk and leant forward. "What is so interesting?"

Ziva gestured to the screen. "I was checking the cases you investigated while I was away and found this—the report about Sarah Andrews' death.

"Oh yeh," Gibbs nodded and came around the desk to look at the screen from behind her shoulder. "You don't know the latest development: Chief Johnson caught LaBelle as he was trying to throw the knife in the ocean. They ran DNA test on the blade and found traces of all the five victims' blood. He has admitted killing his wife 'cause she wanted to leave him. Turned out all the money and the industrial empire belonged to her and he would have lost everything if she obtained the divorce."

"So he killed four other random people to mask the only murder that really mattered… Bastard!" Ziva hissed.

"Yeah."

"I see this happened 40 days ago. Why didn't you tell me before? You knew I was interested in this case."

"I didn't tell you, Ziver, because I didn't know. Chief Johnson – or possibly his bosses – sent the report of their investigation to Captain Andrews, who sent it to his brother, who in turn sent it to the SecNav. It arrived to us only last week."

"Oh."

"And now that your curiosity is satisfied, can we go to my house and satisfy…something else?" Gibbs whispered into her ear.

Ziva looked at him, feigning to be scandalized, "That was quite bold, Agent Gibbs! A true red-light situation!"

He pulled back and put his hand on his heart. "I'm wounded, Officer David. I was just thinking of our stomachs. You must be quite hungry, since you ate only a small sandwich for lunch."

Ziva nodded enthusiastically. "That's true! I'm very hungry!"

She stood up, grabbed her jacket and backpack and walked to the elevator without looking if Gibbs was following.

He was a bit taken aback by the fact she seemed more interested in food than in him. They stepped in the elevator and he pushed the button for the garage level.

Then, quick as light, Ziva reached out, stopped the elevator and turned around with a serious expression.

"What?" Gibbs said, concerned. The evening was not going as he had imagined…

"Nothing, Jethro," Ziva whispered throatily, taking a step toward him. "I've just changed my mind…I'm not hungry anymore…" and speaking so, she closed the distance between them, threw her arms around Gibbs' neck and gave him the first of the many kisses they would share that night.

THE END

OK, that's all for this story. I hope you enjoyed it! I would love for this story to reach the 100-review mark, so please, let me know what you think! :)


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